by David Khara
“So are most of these transhumanists whack jobs?” Jackie asked. She had almost reached out and touched an especially puffy wound on Eytan’s side.
“Some are, yes. But many aren’t. First, though, let’s understand what we’re talking about. From time immemorial, human beings have strived to enhance their performance. Transhumanism is just the latest wrinkle. Take sports, for example. Lots of athletes inject themselves with performance-enhancing drugs. Take EPO, which stimulates red blood-cell production. The effects, however, are temporary, and some scientists are working on a gene that would permanently enhance red blood-cell production.”
“So much for hero-worshipping our athletes,” Jeremy said.
“No kidding. Listen to this. Remember Yao Ming, the seven-foot-six Houston Rockets superstar? His conception and growth as a child were painstakingly manipulated by the Chinese government, whose aim was to turn out a world-class athlete.”
“Now you’re just messing with us.”
“Not at all. Lots of articles have been written about it, even a book or two. The one I read was Operation Yao Ming. His parents, both of whom had played basketball, were specifically chosen by the Chinese government. His mother was six-two, and his father was six-ten. Yao weighed eleven pounds when he was born, and by the age of eight, he was already five-foot-five. Then he started getting injections of growth hormone. That’s when he really took off. After starting his career as a teenager with the Shanghai Sharks, he came to America as the Rockets’ top draft pick. He quickly became an international celebrity, a real money-making machine, and a way for China to promote itself.”
“Wow, that’s pretty scary. So if I’m following all this, Eytan would be the perfect incarnation of this so-called enhanced human.”
“I’d say a prototype more than an incarnation. According to the criteria set by the movement’s defenders, he isn’t perfect. For many of them, immortality is the end goal. Eytan is not immortal. Of course, his life expectancy is exceptional, because he’ll probably live to be a hundred and ten. His special quality is that he doesn’t show any signs of aging, inside or out. I’d describe him as a highly skilled athlete with an above-average ability to recover and adapt. He’s sort of a super-Olympian. Unfortunately, he has several limitations, including the need to inject himself with a serum that keeps his body from self-destructing.”
“I’m sitting right here, you know,” Eytan mumbled.
“We’re well aware of that, you big oaf,” Avi said as he finished wrapping the bandage.
“So what does H-Plus Dynamics have to do with transhumanism?” the Kidon agent asked as he grabbed his T-shirt.
“The transhumanist symbol is an ‘H’ and the plus sign. ‘Dynamics’ makes me think it’s a specialized corporation. I might be wrong, but everything seems to match up with that.”
“How do you know so much about all of this?” Jackie inquired.
“I work for the intelligence agency of a country that sees war as a constant threat. Every government dreams of building a better army, whether it’s in terms of supplies or soldiers. The use of performance-enhancing substances is not exclusive to athletes. Soldiers have access to compounds that allow them to stay alert and resist the effects of cold, heat, and stress. Believe me, all means of gaining an upper hand are in play when it comes to war. Keeping up on the latest advances in biochemistry and medical technology is part of my job.”
“Avi is right,” Eli chimed in as he rejoined his friends. “Armies around the world spend tons of money on chemical and technological research. The advances they come up with aren’t made public until they’re obsolete for the military. So while medical reporters are busy writing stories about the latest prosthetics, newer and more improved ones are already being created, tested, and used. The arm we have here is proof of that. This isn’t science fiction. It’s clandestine science. Bramble mentioned some covert program. Eytan thinks the guys who attacked us were hardcore military men, and Avi just clearly and expertly explained the connection with transhumanism. There’s no doubt in my mind that the US government is setting up some kind of special unit composed of enhanced fighters. And they’re getting help from a corporation that deals with the latest advancements in prosthetics. But we still need to figure out why they want Eytan and find a way out of this mess.”
Short and sweet, Jeremy thought. Avi and Eli seemed just as comfortable in their own fields as Eytan was with hand-to-hand combat. As individuals, they were incredible. But as a threesome, they were a force to be reckoned with. And you sure as hell wanted them on your side.
“I’m going to call Attali to bring him up to speed and see if he can tell us more about General Bennington,” Eytan said.
He took out his cell phone and stepped away from the table, Eli at his side.
The others left the restaurant to give the duo some privacy. Jeremy needed a cigarette. Once outside, he offered one to the doctor, who made a crack about tobacco breath and declined. Jackie laughed. Jeremy growled and turned away. But he turned back around just as quickly. He wasn’t going to let them out of his sight.
“And what do you think about all this?” he asked Avi.
“About what?”
“Human enhancement, superprosthetics, the full monty.”
“I’m more in favor of human healing. I’m sure you know about Oscar Pistorius, the four-hundred-meter runner. Set aside, for the moment, what happened with his girlfriend, and just think of him as an athlete. Didn’t it amaze you that a double amputee was competing in the Olympic semifinals of the four-hundred meter and that he made it all the way to the finals?”
“Well, yes.”
“Point proven! We’re in the midst of a revolution. Everyone who watched the Olympics can attest to that. Healing a human is one thing, and the devices we create to allow someone to overcome adversity have terrific merit. But messing with the human genome, mixing man and machine with ulterior motives that have nothing to do with healing, and deliberately tampering with the course of evolution... That’s bad news, my friend.”
Jeremy threw his cigarette to the ground and looked up at the sky.
“No question about it now. This little adventure has their name written all over it. Don’t you agree, honey?”
“I was afraid of that,” Jackie replied.
“Care to explain?” Avi said.
Jeremy started running back toward the door of the restaurant. “Don’t move,” he instructed Avi.
Eytan was just wrapping up his cell-phone conversation when Jeremy got inside.
“The Consortium,” he yelled.
“Yeah, no shocker there. It’s not exactly a cause for celebration, though,” Eytan replied, his eyes glued to his cell as he entered another number.
“We just realized it ourselves, but I’m happy you’ve reached the same conclusion,” Eli said. He gave the young man a friendly pat on the shoulder and walked outside to join Jackie and Avi.
Jeremy was speechless. Here he had thought he was onto something.
“Who are you calling?” he asked Eytan.
“An old friend, Ian Jenkins. Hello, Jenkins?” Eytan’s voice resonated. “How’s the knee holding up? And just curious, what boxers do you have on today? Stripes or polka dots?”
Getting a playful wink from Eytan, Jeremy decided a second cigarette was in order. He returned to the sidewalk with one thought running through his head: they’d gone bonkers.
Chapter 25
The discussion on the Madison Avenue sidewalk was flying faster than the yellow taxicabs ferrying harried businessmen and awestruck tourists. The three men and one woman in front of the little French restaurant were going on and on about doping, genetic mutation, prosthetics, and robotics and their military and police-force applications. Eli and Avi were answering Jeremy’s many questions. This wasn’t the sci-fi that filled the shelves of his store. It wasn’t something out of Jules Verne. It was the real thing.
Avi weighed in. “You have to wonder whether Jules Verne was
prophesying the future or if his works were a source of inspiration for inventors. It’s even possible that he picked up on ideas floating in the collective subconscious. Other celebrated sci-fi writers have created machinery and devices that we’re seeing in the real world today. Take Robert Heinlein’s powered armor, which also goes by the name powered exoskeleton. The French Army has introduced Hercule, which allows a solder to easily carry more than 200 pounds. American engineers have designed a similar device called HULC. There’s no doubt in my mind that mythology influences creative minds and excites the imagination. Science and fiction feed off one another to the point of becoming inseparable. Sometimes it’s a positive thing, but more often than not, it’s...”
Eytan emerged from the restaurant. “Well aren’t you all looking serious. What did I miss?”
“Avi was sharing his philosophical views, while Jeremy was enlightening us with his geeky sci-fi information,” Jackie teased. “Any updates at your end?”
Eytan nodded toward the door. “Let’s go back in, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Jackie went in first, followed by Jeremy, Eli, Avi, and Eytan.
“So now the coffee-machine maniac is waxing philosophical?” Eytan asked.
“Diogenes lived in a ceramic jar,” the doctor retorted without missing a beat. “The ambitions of great minds are not easily understood by the common folk.”
He gently patted the giant’s injured ribs. Eytan had already tensed up in anticipation.
“Let’s go,” Eytan grunted, “Or I guarantee you’ll feel the wrath of the common folk.”
Eytan swung his foot back, ready to kick his friend in the behind. Avi hurried to the table.
“So I just spoke with my friend Jenkins,” Eytan said, getting back to business. “He’s a member of the Consortium, but he’s simultaneously collaborating with us.”
“A member of the Consortium in cahoots with us?” Jackie asked.
“You have no idea how far you can get with a little kindness and a well-aimed bullet.”
“I have a vague idea. Please, go on.”
“I asked him if the name H-Plus Dynamics rang any bells, and he said it sounded familiar. He confirmed that this company does, indeed, belong to the Consortium, but he didn’t really know what it does. He’s going to get back to me with the address.”
“He seems very cooperative for someone from the Consortium,” Jeremy said.
“I was very considerate when I aimed the bullet,” Eytan said, grinning.
“I’m sure you were. While we’re on the subject of the Consortium, whatever happened to Elena, that bitch who killed my mom?”
“She’s...”
Eytan stopped himself. He was experiencing an unusual feeling: embarrassment. How could he tell Jeremy that he and the genetically modified killer had grown close to each other, so close that he had helped her fake her death and free herself from the Consortium? Was Jeremy capable of understanding that Eytan had been able to move past his enmity and had even trusted her on a mission that had thrown them together? He had been caught up in rescuing Jeremy and Jackie and hadn’t prepared himself for Jeremy’s question. Just how wide was the gap between the agent’s life and Jeremy’s expectations? And above all, how could he deceive this goofy but terribly sweet boy who was more than ready to get involved in adventures that were way bigger than he was.
“She’s dead,” Eli intervened. Eytan silently thanked Eli for sparing him the discomfort of lying or burdening the young man with a truth that was impossible to accept. “Eytan killed her in front of me with two bullets to the chest.”
Jeremy remained stone-faced. “Too bad that couldn’t bring Mom back,” he said.
Avi swooped in and changed the subject.
“Do you trust this Jenkins fellow?”
“No, but the fear I’ve instilled in him should make up for that little detail.”
“And Attali, what does he think?” Avi asked.
“He’s pulling together what he can find on Sergeant Terry, General Bennington, and H-Plus Dynamics. He should be calling back any minute now. By the way, he’d like to have a little examination done on our trophy.”
“That’s a good idea,” the doctor said. “But there’s no way we’ll be able to get this thing out of the country and into the hands of a Mossad expert. And when I say expert, I mean a real genius in engineering, electronics, and what have you.”
“Well, it just so happens that we know someone just like that right here in the US, right Eli?”
Eli turned to Eytan with shock written all over his face.
“Excuse me? You want to go see... No, no, no, not on your life!”
“We don’t have a choice.”
“You know very well how things end up every time we’re together. It’s always a disaster.”
“Do you mind telling us what you’re talking about?” Jackie asked.
Eytan and Eli launched into an answer at the same time. Eytan couldn’t make himself understood because Eli was talking over him.
“One at a time!” Jackie ordered.
“A very old friend of ours holds a position at a university in Illinois. He excels in the fields that Avi mentioned. If there’s anyone who can help us with this arm, it’s him.”
“He’s unbearable.” Eli was fuming.
“Maybe now isn’t the best time to let our egos get in the way of what we need to do,” Jackie told the men. “You both know this professor well?”
“He’s my brother,” Eli surrendered with a sigh. “Not my biological brother. My adopted brother. But don’t ask me to explain right now. It’s too complicated. All right, Eytan, I’ll go. What’s our next move?”
“You, Avi, and the prosthetic will leave for Chicago immediately. I’ll wait here until I get an address for H-Plus Dynamics. When I find out where they’re located, I’ll pay them a little visit. I’ll take Jeremy and Jackie with me. Jackie will cover me if I need help. Now that the little episode on the High Line is over, we’re back on track. Our enemies have no idea where to find us. From here on out, we’re the hunters. I intend to keep that advantage until the very end.”
“And what is the very end?” Jeremy asked. He looked happier than a kid on Christmas morning. Eytan knew that Jeremy liked spending time with him, but to be this ecstatic over a few extra hours together? And with no idea of what awaited them during those hours? Okay. So be it.
“The systematic elimination of every honcho in this project. That’s the end,” Eytan declared. “It’s the only possible way out of this fucking mess.”
Chapter 26
In the middle of a forest in Poland, January 1943
The night was drawing to a close, and the first rays of sunshine were struggling to pierce the thick clouds that threatened to add to the blanket of snow. Today, like every other day of the rotten war, the members of this small band of fighters were cold and miserable. But they weren’t hungry, thanks to Jablonski’s generosity. There were many farmers who could not or would not feed the resistance fighters. Some farmers had nothing to share. Others feared retaliation—most often summary execution—from the occupying forces. A handful of Poles embraced Hitler’s cause and saw nothing wrong with the mistreatment of Jews, intellectuals, and homosexuals. They were convinced that a powerful Poland would emerge from the war. Fortunately, these Poles were in the minority, and those who fought in the shadows received much-appreciated support from everyday heroes. In a state seized by insanity, freedom hung on acts of solidarity.
A natural-born leader, Janusz had always commanded respect from those around him. His role in this grim farce was made clear in the flames that ravaged Warsaw on the last night of the Luftwaffe bombings. The flames had engulfed the apartment where he lived with his wife and two sons. Only he had survived. On the night that he lost his family, he shed his identity as a simple peace-loving man. Hitler’s troops wanted insane and savage warfare. And that was what they were getting from Janusz—a full share of it.
Over the foll
owing months, the construction foreman had turned into a merciless killer. He slaughtered the enemy at every opportunity. Two soldiers strolling on a deserted street, a careless driver who had gone off to piss in a dark alley. No game plan, no strategy, just a wild dive into the deep abyss. Janusz answered to no one. He simply killed.
Some resistance fighters vehemently disapproved of his renegade actions, which brought about disastrous consequences. The Wehrmacht had reinforced its patrols, stepped up its raids, and retaliated against civilians. A few fighters even wanted to see him eliminated, although none of them would have pulled the trigger.
A more sensible branch of the Armia Krajowa had approached Janusz. They wanted him to sabotage the railway tracks used to transport provisions to German garrisons. It was a dangerous mission with practically no chance of success. Suicidal, in fact. If this man had to die, it was better to get something out of it. Janusz accepted the assignment, and before he knew it, he had pulled together a band of raging-mad rebels from all over Poland. From their very first outing, the eclectic team had proved to be an undeniably effective attack force. As individuals, these guys were unpredictable radicals. Collectively, they accomplished the unthinkable. With his crack unit, Janusz now had a sense of responsibility and organization. Their job was unchanged: killing the Germans. But oddly, Janusz’s mental state was more balanced.
Tales of the feats achieved by the Tawny Bear and his band of men soon spread throughout the country.
From then on, he had fought for his men, the memory of his family, and the sovereignty of his country. Death had to wait a little longer.
The morning promised to be a busy one. During the night, they had secured the food they badly needed, but their restocking mission had also yielded a surprise in the form of a boy in an SS uniform. During their trek from the Jablonski farm to the campsite in the forest, Vassili hadn’t spoken a word. The humiliating confrontation with the kid, whom he was now lugging on his massive shoulder, had completely silenced the usually quiet Siberian. Janusz was also reflecting on the scene he had witnessed. If he hadn’t stepped in, there was no question that Vassili would have been defeated. And yet in any other barehanded fight no one could have matched the strength and speed of the Red Army deserter. Furthermore, what was the meaning of the tattoo on the boy’s forearm?
